As most of y'all know, I'm in the midst of proofreading and copy-editing the first volume of my pops' book about the Battle of Stones River (A Civil War battle, fought in the last and first days of 1862 and 1863, respectively). It's not a simple task, for reasons ranging from the sheer bulk of the manuscript (approximately 850 single-spaced pages, not counting the index, which hasn't been compiled yet) to the writing style, which is suitably 19th-century military report-like, to my own hit-and-miss discipline. That said, I am thoroughly enjoying myself.
This is not a popular history book that just anyone could pick up and read over the course of a week or two. It is a highly detailed, intensely researched, non-conjectural account of the battle that raged over the land that my pops grew up on in Tennessee, all of it written by a decidedly unacademic man. It is a labor of not only love, but a lifetime's worth of fascination that started with the unearthing of a Minie ball at least half a century ago.
What could have been left in the dust of history has become something tangible, something I never expected to find myself pondering at odd hours. My pops, like so many other historians, amateur and professional alike, makes me that much more aware of history and my relationship to it is, and therefore is doing what a historian should.
I am so proud of my family and everything they've taught me.
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